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+=====Day Of The Kingfisher.-----
+Paul L. Grano.
+Look! Look! See, the kingfisher comes--\\
+There where the white log splits the pool.\\
+O the blue flash of him like the thunder cloud!\\
+See, there he goes - over he rock-fall.\\
+Now where the banksias on the creek's elbow\\
+Lean scarlet to scarlet-- O how he flashes!\\
+Look, look - ah! he is gone.\\
+Yet for his coming the laurel more vibrant,\\
+Bolder the bronze of young leaf on the fig,\\
+And softer the gloom-thought green of carel -\\
+How all things now are lovelier since he came!
+----
+=====Kosiusko - And Traveller's Tales.=====
+By G. Edgecombe.
+At the end of our first week, Dorothy, Sheila and myself felt 'twas the correct thing to pay a Sunday afternoon call at the Chalet - needless to say, driven also by such ulterior motives as a desire to look at the inside thereof. We decided the building was slightly less offensive to the eyes at close quarters than it had been at a distance. This perhaps due to the lower courses being built in arches of grey granite, into which were set blocks of dazzlingly white crystalline quartz.
+We circumnavigated the place trying all the doors, and causing terrific hubbub among the dogs who were tied up (well apart, to prevent fighting) all over the hillside. One shaggy white darling whined most pathetically the moment we stopped petting him, so we concluded no one was home. Seeing a shirt lying on the ground, Dorothy the kind-hearted, having a mind to the ravages of grasshoppers, was replacing it on a fence, when a deep, slow voice from above us called, "If you'll come to the side door I'll let you in."
+The owner of the voice turned out to be Mr. Harnett, District Surveyor - tall, rose-checked, grey-bearded, with lively blue eyes and that delicious lilting drawl that belongs to mountain people. We thought for a moment that he might accuse us of trying to make off with the aforementioned shirts, but no he was very interested in our trip, (we having just come back up Hannell's Spur from the Geehi), and invited us in to afternoon tea. We couldn't spoil our reputation for never refusing food; and wandered in to the huge kitchen, where we imbibed tea (with real milk) and completely demolished, crumbs and all, a large portion of plumduff, much to the delight of Mr. Harnett, who was acting as cook for his party, and whose efforts had been sneered at hitherto. While the kettle was boiling we managed to sneak off and have a look at the glowing colours and fine handiwork of the rugs and curtains, returning full of admiration for the person responsible - our friend, Hannah Lemberg. Then, as we still dallied, Mr.Harnett exanded into story-telling mood. He told us how, dotted over the high, cold lands between here and Canberra, he would, every now and then, come upon the remains of old, extensive, well-built homes; that it was his theory that the very earliest settlers from the old country liked the snow and blizzards and such like; but that later generations, especially with the coming of stage-coaches, had no liking for these rigours, and abandoned them for the sunny valleys.
+Somehow, the talk wandered to music in Nature; and of the tale we heard, these remain most vivid to me, as he told them:
+"Once, when I was a little feller, I was sent out in the early morning to round up the horses. It was very clear and still, and growing along the hillside were hundreds of young gums, very tall and straight, and evenly spaced, going way up before they branched out. Well, as I came up the rise in the growing light, a slight breeze lifted, three times, and three times I heard a low, long-drawn note - the deep note of an organ - which could only have been caused by the wind blowing through the gums, as if on pipes."
+And again - "Three of us were going to explore an underground river in the Womboyan Caves. It was too deep to wade, and much too cold to swim; so we made a raft fixed to oil drums. This would hold no more than one of us; so we tossed up, and I went. I had all my surveyor's gear, as well as matches and candles in a waterproof bag. I paddled along and found there was a strong current. Every now and then I cut a piece of candle and fixed it to a rock; the lights flickered as I looked back into the darkness; at one place, the river plunged into an abyss. I got so interested that I had  not fixed a candle for a long time, when I saw an enormous broken stalactite hanging over the water and disappearing overhead into the blackness of the roof. As went past, I thought it would be fun to take a good swinging blow at it with my hammer. Well! A terrific note rang out, went echoing through the caves, and I found myself struggling in inky blackness deep in icy water; the raft gone, but my bag still with me. I couldn't see a sign of the big stalactite, but the current washed me up to a whole forest of little raggedy fellers - I felt my way round them ever so carefully, and came to the raft. That was all right, but not such an easy job getting on to it; because as soon as I tried it, it overturned. So I manoeuvred it along till at last I came to the big stalactite; managed to grab hold of the end, tested it, and found it was firm, took a good grip, and working round with my feet got the raft under me, then with freezing fingers took candle and matches out - and the first one lit! I fixed it on a rock and drew a deep breath. Got back finally after being away for four hours. But talk of music - when I heard that sound of the hammer ring out, it certainly seemed to me the trumpet of doom!"
+Somehow, all our trip seemed to me to be linked with or translated into music, for the next day I went off on my own to explore Lake Albina and Mount Townsend - a clear, sparkling day, and I walked up the semi-circular valley of the Snowy against a strong wind. The gem like clarity of tawny rocks, set in a mosiac of silver, turquoise and greenish-gold, the dancing, icy little river edged with deep mintbush - were all part of a symphony of Sibelius, whose far-off trumpets same in my ears with a wild and thrilling voice. As I went up tussocky, frosty hillsides straight into the wind-swept blue sky, the music lifted until it became the high, passionless notes of a violin played ever more softly, until at last it drifted into silence, mingled with the thyme-scented air, and odour, opalescent colour and dream-music were blended into one.
+A sudden drop, over the rim of the world, and I was in a most perfect U-shaped valley - flanked with tumbled round sheep-like masses of grey granite, floored with the gently rippling lake, and ending quite abruptly in blue space - veil beyond veil of misty ridges falling towards the Geehi. Tucked in this sheltered little valley of Lake Albina, I was at once cut off from the wind, in the absence of trees, I could not oven hear it. With no sound but the ruffled lake splashing on the pebbles. As I lay at the edge on springy, brownish-green moss, studded with scarlet berries and set with tiny white flowers, two eagles came swinging with long slow rhythm through the crags. Here at last, I thought, I feel at home on this sad earth. My mind drifted off lazily, and I resolved to look up something that had been puzzling me, surely someone had described these lovely mosses better than I ever could. Sure enough, it was Ruskin - and though he spoke of the Alps, every word of it applies here:-
+They will not conceal the form of the rock, but will gather over it in little brown bosses, like small cushions of velvet made of mixed threads of dark ruby silk and gold, rounded over more subdued films of white and grey, with lightly crisped and curled edges like hoar-frost on fallen leaves, and minute clusters of upright orange stalks with pointed caps, and fibres of deep green, and gol, and faint purple passing into black, all woven together, and following with unimaginable fineness of gentle growth the undulation of the stone they cherish, until it is charged with colour so that it can receive no more; and instead of looking rugged, or cold, or stern, as anything that a rock is held to be at heart, it seemed to be clothed with a soft dark leopard skin, embroidered with arabesque of purple and silver".
+It takes little effort of imagination to visualise the glacier, 600 feet thick, which carved out this U-shaped trough, left its moraine at the end to dam up and form the lake and cut deep groves in the granite cliffs and platforms at the sides. Now the lake is cutting through the tumbled mass of rock at the end, as a vigorous stream, which then fells suddenly and dizzyingly down a long, steep valley far below. The glacier which formed it was only part of an ice-cap which once encased the Kosciusko plateau. This came down from the 7000' level to about 5000' above the sea. Later it broke up into a number of small Alpine glaciers which left behind them Lakes Cootapatamba and Albina, the Club Lake, Blue Lake and Hedley's Tarn. The last of these glaciers probably disappeared only about 10,000 to 15,000 years ago.
+Most of the rocks of the Kosciusko plateau. e.g. the Ramshead and Kosciusko as well as Townsend and Twynam are granitic; grey and crystalline, with a characteristic banded arrangement of light and dark. It is these which produce the porridgy-surfaced hummocks and smooth bare slopes. Intersepersed with these are slaty rocks with a golden, silky lustre, called phyllites - between Mt. Twynam and Lake Albina there is quite a large area of them. I mention those particularly because it appeared at one stage they might help settle a controversy. Mr. Harnett told us that Strzelecki, in his diary, had regarded the presence of "slate" in his trip up from the Murray valley. Now Townsend and Kosciusko are both on gneissic granite; but if a quantity of slate were to be found on one of the western slopes of Townsend and not on Kosciusko it would constitute some slight evidence in favour of the former. So I encircled Townsend with signal lack of success, and reported the sad story to Mr. Harnett on my return. He wrote as follows:-
+"Mt. Townsend's claim to be the Kosciusko of Strzelecki has faded to a shadow, no slate! And last week Mr. Barrie showed me a map purporting to be a true copy of that which Strzelecki prepared and sent in with his report to the N.S.W. Government - this map shows his Kosciusko as being right on the Main Range which he apparantly located for some miles to north and south of the peak; past Mt. Tate and past the South Ram's Head. It is not possible to think that he could have mistaken Townsend and "The Abbott" for the Main Range and Great Divide".
+And so the matter rests. I for one am secretly relieved to think that the right peak bears Kosciusko's name.
+I finished my day of lonely wanderings down the shadowy glen of the Snowy to the Pound's Creek hut chanting happily (and tunelessly) these words, which are said to be a translation of an old God's song - and he must surely have lived in just such a place, and been just such a hopeful egoist as myself:-
+I am the overlord of the hills and the high places,\\
+And it is the changing breath of the mountains that I seize and make into words.\\
+My bed is as high above the clouds as my labouring minister, the earth, can lift me up,\\
+And my thoughts are as far above the stars as my eager heart can carry them."
+----
-' DAY OF THE KINGFISHER
-Paul L. Grano,
-Lookl.Lookl See; the kingfisher comes--
-There where the white log s:.-)lits the pool,
-the blue flash of him lie the thunder cloudl See, there he goes - over he rock-fall. Now where the banksias on the creek's elbow Lean scarlet to scarlet-- 0 how he flashes! Look, look - ahl he is gone.
-Yet for his coming the laurel more vibrant, Bolder the bronze of young leaf on the fig, And softer the gloom-thought green of carel - How all things now are lovelier since he camel
-f!)
-.
-KOSCIUSKO -- A'ZD TRAVELLER'S TALES. By G. Edgecombe-.
-At the end of our first week, Dorothy, Sheila and myself felt Itwas the correct thing to pay a Sunday afternoon call at the Chalet - needless to say, driven also by such ult:rior motives a. desire to look at the inside-thereof. We decided the buildine; was slightly less offensive to the eyes at close quarters than it had been at a distance. This perhaps due to the lower courses being built in arches of grey granite, into which' were set blocks of dazzlini;ly white crystalline quartz.
-We circumnavigated the place trying all the doors, and causing terrific
-hubbub among the dogs who were tied up (well. apart, to prevent fighting) all over the hillside. One shaggy white darling whined most pathetically the
-moment we stopped petting him, so we concluded no one was hothe. Seeing a shirt lying on the ground, Dorothy the kind-hearted, having a mind to the ravages of grasshopPers, was replacing it on a fence, when a deep, slow voice from above us called, "If you'll come to the side door I'll let you in."
-The owner of the voice turned out to be Mr.Harnett, District Surveyor - tall, rose-checked, grey-bearded, With lively blue eyds and that delicious lilting drawl that belongs to mountal,n. people. We thought for a moment that he might accuse us of trying to makfe. off with the 'aforementioned Shirts, but
-no he was very ineroted in oui t'rip, (we having just come back. up,Hannell's
-Spur from the Geeht),' and invited US in to afternoon tea. couldnit spoil our reputation for fiver refusin2; food; and wandered in to the huge kitchen, where we imbibed te,2, (with real milk) and completely demolished, crumbs and all, a large portion of -,.)1Umduff, much to the delight of Mr.Harnett, who was acting as coo k.for his party, and whose efforts had been ens red at hitherto, While the kettle was boiling we managed to sneak off and have a look,at the glowing colours and fine handiwork of the rugs and curtains, returning-full of admiration for the,parson res-)onsible - our friend, Hannah Lemberg. Them, as we still dallied, Mr.Harnett exanded into story-telling mood. He told us how, dotted over the high, cold =lands between here and Canberra, he would, every now and then, come upon th r emains of old, extensive, well-built homes; that it was his thdory that the very earliest settlers from the old country liked the snow and bli=ards'and Each like; but that later gegerations, especially with the coming of stage-coaches, had no liking for these rigours, and abandoned them for the sunny valleys.
-Somehow, the talk wan dered to music in Nature; and of the tale we heard, these remain most vivid to me, ac he told them,--
-"Once, when I was a little feller, I was sent out in the early morning to round u--) the horses. It was,ver,"clar olld still, and growing along the hillside were hundreds of young gums, very tall and straight, and evenly_ spaced, going 'way 117 before they branched out. Well, as I came uP the rise in the growing light, a slight breeze lifted, three times, and three times I heard a low, long-drawn note - the deep note of an organ - which could only have been caused by the wind blowing through the 3ume7, as if on pipes."
-And again - "Throe of us were going to oyolore an underground river in the
-.
-Womboyan Ce ves. It was too deep to wade, and much too cold to swim; so we made a raft fixed to oil drums. Thi- would hold no more than one of us; so we tossed up, and I went. I had all my surveyor's gear, as well as matches and candles in a waterproof bag. I paddled along and found there was a strong current. Every now and then I cut a piece of candle aed fixed it to a rock;
-the lights flickered as I looked back into the darkneesi, at one place,, the river plunged into an abyss. I got so interested that I'had. not fixed a candle for a long time, when I saw an enormous broken stalactite hangingevor the water and disappearing overhead into the blexknoss of the roof. As went past, T
-thought it would be fun to take a good swinging blow at it with my hammer._
-Well! A terrific note rang out, wont echoing through the caves, and I found myself strugling in inky blackness deep in icy water; the raft gone, but my bag still with me. I couldn't see a sign of the big stalactite, but the
-current washed me up to a whole forest of little raggedy fellers - I felt my
-way round them ever so carefully, and c me to the raft. That was all right, but
-not such an easy job getting on to it; because as soon as I tried it, it
-overturned. So I manoeuvred it along till ut last I came to the big stalactite; managed to grab hold of the end, tested it, and found it was firm, took a good grip, and working round with my feet got the raft under me, then with freezing
-fingers took candle and matches out - and the first one lit! I fixed it on a rock and drew a deep breath. Got bc..ck finally after being away for four hours. But talk of music - when I heard that Sound of the hammer ring out, it certainly seemed to me the trumpet of doom'
-Somehow, all our trip seemed to me to be linked with or translated into
-music, for the next day I went off on my own to explore Lake Albina and Mount
-Townsend - a clear, sparkling day, and I walked up the semi-circular valley of the Snowy ,egainst a strong wind. The gem like clarity of tawny rocks, set in a mosiac of silver, turquoise and greenish-gold, the dancing, icy little river edged with deep mintbush - were all part of a symphony of Sibelius, whose far-off trumpets same in my ears with a wild and thrilling voice. As I want up' tussocky, frosty hillsides straight into the wind-swept blue sky, the music lifted until it became the hih, passionless notes of a violin played ever more softly, until at last it drifted into silence, mingled with the thyme-scented air, and odour, opalescent colour and dream-music were blended into one.
-A sudden drop, over the rim of the world, and I was in a most perfect U-shaped valley - flanked with tumbled round sheep-like masses of grey granite, floored with the gently rip ling lake, and ending quite abruptly in blue space - veil beyond veil of misty ridges falling towards the Geehi. Tucked in this sheltered little valley of Lake Albina, I was at onde cut off from the wind, in the absence of trees, I could not oven hear it. With no sound but the ruffld lake splashing on the pebbles. As I lay at the edge on springy, brownish-green moss, studded with scarlet berries and set with tiny white flowers, two eagles came swinging with long slow rhythm. through the crags. Hare at last, I thought, I feel at home on this sad e,Irth. My mind drifted off lazily, and I resolved to look up something that had boon nu7zling me, surely someone had described these lovely mosses better than I ever could. Sure enough, it was Ruskin - and though he spoke of the Alps, every word of it applies here:-
-,
-They will not conceal the form of the 'rock, but will gather over it in little brown bosses, like small cushions of velvet made of mixed threads of dark ruby silk and gold, rounded 9.1N.,r more subdued films of white and grey,
-with lightly crised and cu'rld edges-like ho r-frost on fallen leaves, and minute clusters of u7rieht orilnge 'Stalks with pointed caps, and fibres of 4ap green, and alid faint Purple pe.6acng into black, all woven together,and following with unimaEinable finone8c of gentle growth the undulation of 'the stone they cherish, until it is cha-ged with colour so that it can receive no more;and instead of looking rugged, or cold, or stern, as anything that a rock is held to be at heart, it seem d co be clothed with a soft dark leopard skin,embroidered with arabesque of purple and silver".
-it takes little effort of imagination to visualise the glacier, 600 feet thick,whic:_a carved out this U-shaped trough? 1,ft its moraine at the end to dam 1,1-2 and form the lake and cut deep groves in the granite cliffs and platforms at the sides. Now the lake is cutting through the tumbled mass of rock at the cud, as a vigorous stream,which then fells suddenly and dizzyingly down a long, steep v_dley far below. The glacier which formed it was only part of an ice-cap which once encased the Kosciusko plateau. This came down from the 70001 level to about 50001 above the sea. Later it broke up into a number of small Alpine glaceers which 1,ft behind them Lakes Cootapatamba and Albino., the Club LrIkel Blue Llke Hedleyls Tarn, The let of these glaciers -erobably disa-ePeared only about 10,000 to 15,000 ye,ers ago.
-Most of'the rocks of the Iocciuski 1-Aeau. e g. the R-.resheed and Kosciusko as w,11 as Townsend and Twynam are Lcranitic;grey and crystallinelwith a characteristic banded arrangemenb of light and dark. It is these which :roduce the porridgy-surfaced hummocks and smooth bare slopes. Intersepersed with these are slaty rocks with a goldenlcilky lustre,called phyTTites -- between Mt.Ttynam and Lake Albina there is Quite a large area of them. I mention those particularly because it al)peared at one stage they might help settle a controversy. Mr.Harnett told us that Strzelechitin his diary, had retarded the presence of "slate" in his trip up from the Murray valley, Now Townsend and Kosciusko are both on gneissic granite; but if a cluantity of slate were to be found on one of the western slopes of Townsend and not on Kosciusko it would constitute some slight evidence in favour of the former, So I encircled Townsend wit signal lack of success, arid reported the sad story to MriHarnett on my return He vote as follows:-
-"Etlownsend's claim to be the Kosciusko of Strzelecki has faded to a shadow, no slates And last week Yx.Barrie showed me a map pur-eorting to be a true copy of that which Strzelecki prenared arid sent in with his report to the IT.S. Government - this map shows his Kosciusko as being right on the Main Range which he apparantly located for some miles to north and south of the pe..k; past
-Tate and past the South Rails Head. It is not possible to think that he could have
-mint-ken Townsend and "The Abbott" for the Main Range and Great Divide".
-And co the m-tter rests. I for one am secretly relieved to think that the right poak bears Kosciusko's name,
-I finished my day of lonely wanderings down the shadowy glen of the snowy to the Pound's Creek hut chanting ha-):)ily (and tunelessly) these words, which are said to be a translation of an old God's song - and he must surely have lived in just such a and been just such a hopeful egoist as myself:-
-a
-.
-I am the ovorlord of the hills and the high places, And it is the ch'.nging breath of the mountains that I seize and make into words.
-IT7 bed is as above- th'eclouds as my labouring minister, the earth' on lift'me u-2,
-And my thouchts are as. 'farabove :the stars as my eager heart ca-i cD._cry tham j!.,%,
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